Then, in a veiled, sweet voice, she sang:
"Can you keep the bee from ranging,
Or the ring-dove's neck from changing?
No. Nor fettered love from dying
In the knot there's no untying."
Lawrence sat so motionless that he almost had an air of rigidity. He continued his straight-ahead stare as he remarked, in an indifferent voice, "Meramble looks like a man who would not only sing like that, but act like that."
Prudence did not speak for some moments. Then she said she wondered why men seemed to hate each other so; she never could understand it.
"Then what you have not understood may be beyond your comprehension altogether."
Here Lawrence drew out another cigar, contemplated it, and then returned it to its case.
"How pleasant the water-battery is!" exclaimed Prudence.